A Movie Adaptation of The Mediator
by VirginRealities
Summary: I've always wanted to make a movie based on The Mediator, so here it is! Scene 3, up now. Enter Heather, Father Dom, Adam, and a coupla more
1. Scene 1: Palm trees

Hello! I've always wanted to do ascript of The Mediator, it would make such a good movie. I've decided to stay close to the original dialogue and plot (not like the moviesbased onThe Princess Diaries, haha), so some of the dialogue is taken straight from the book. This this is supposed to be one movie, I'm only going to use the important parts of the 6 books--mostly Shadowland, Darkest Hour, some of Haunted, and Twilight. (I've decided to skip the whole Pebble Beach thing from Darkest Hour and make Paul Slater an original student at the Mission Academy instead of Suze meeting him at the resort during the summer. But don't worry, he'll definately be in the movie. wink And since it might make the script too long, I'm going to have Suze and Jesse quote-unquote "hook up" at the end of the Darkest Hour segment, instead of the Haunted segment. So that kiss at the end of Darkest Hour is the real thing P)

Chapter One: "They told me there'd be palm trees."

(Suze is on an airplane, staring out the window at California, her new home, and at the palm trees she can see out the window.)

_I am the son _

_And the heir _

_Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar _

_I am the son and the heir _

_Of nothing in particular _

_You shut your mouth _

_How can you say _

_I go about things the wrong way _

_I am human and I need to be loved _

_Just like everybody else does _

_There's a club, if you like to go _

_You could meet somebody who really loves you _

_So you go, and you stand on your own _

_And you leave on your own _

_And you go home _

_And you cry _

_And you want to die _

_When you say it's gonna happen "now", _

_Well, when exactly do you mean? _

_See I've already waited too long _

_And all my hope is gone._

How Soon is Now, by The Smiths

(Suze gets off the plane and sees her mother, her stepfather Andy, and his three children, Jake, Brad, and David–also known as Dopey, Sleepy, and Doc. They're waving and grinning, and holding a sign that proclaims, "Welcome Home, Susannah!")

MOM: Susie! Susie, we're over here!

SUZE (walking up to her mother): Hi, mom. You can put the sign down now.

(Suze's mom gathers her up in a big hug, much to Suze's embarrassment, while her two oldest stepbrothers grin at her. She shoots them A Look.)

SUZE: I didn't know they had palm trees in northern California. Why'd you tell me not to give away all my sweaters, Mom?

ANDY: How was your flight, kiddo? (Takes her bag) Whoa, what've you got in here, anyway? You know it's a felony to smuggle New York City fire hydrants across state lines.

SUZE: It's not a fire hydrant, it's a parking meter. And sorry to tell you this, but I've got four more bags.

(Suze's mom and David being talking at the same time)

DAVID: Suze, did you notice that as you were landing, the tail of the plane kicked up a little? That was from an updraft.

MOM: Oh, Susie, you're going to love the house. It didn't feel like home at first, but not that you're here...Oh, and wait until you've seen your room. Andy's fixed it up so nice...

DAVID: It's caused when a mass moving at a considerable rate of speed encounters a counter-blowing wind velocity of equal or greater strength.

MOM: The view! An ocean view from the bay window in your room! Oh, Suze, you're going to love it!

BRAD: Do you like the sign?

SUZE: (yanks the sign out of his hands) Yeah, it's great. Can we go? I wanna pick up my bags before someone else does.

MOM: Oh, right. I'm just so glad to see you! You look so lovely...(Aside) Though I've talked to you before about that jacket, Suze. And I thought you were throwing those jeans away.

SUZE: (Stares down at her leather jacket and old, ripped jeans) When you're flying for eight hours across the country, comfort is key.

(Suze's mom rolls her eyes)

JAKE: (Picks up Suze's other bag, whispers) Uh, you're not in a gang...are you?

SUZE (exasperated) We've been over this before, Jake.

(Scene fades out, faintly we hear David talking)

DAVID: In order to break through the earth's gravitational force, an object must have the necessary escape velocity speed...

(Scene opens with Suze and the rest of her new family in the car, driving by new, very Californian sights: bright sun, dry, brown hills, cypress and more palm trees, hummingbirds, roadside stands advertising artichokes and pomegranates, grapevines, and hot air balloons. Suze gasps when they drive by the ocean.)

MOM: What? What is it?

SUZE: Uh, nothing...just the ocean.

MOM: Oh. Yes. Isn't it beautiful?

BRAD: Good curl on those waves. Might have to hit the beach before dinner.

ANDY: Not until you've finished that term paper.

BRAD: Aw, Dad, come on!

MOM: You're going to love your new school, Suze. Jake, Brad, and David all go there. It was named after quite an astounding man, Junipero Serra, who came over from Spain in the 1700's to teach Native Americans about European culture...

(Suze starts to space out and is still looking at the ocean)

MOM: ...And attracts more than 20, 000 tourists a year! Isn't that exciting, Suze?

SUZE: Sure, Mom. (Turns away from the window) Wait a minute. When was this school built?

DAVID: The eighteenth century. The mission system, implemented by the Franciscans under the guidelines of the Catholic Church and the Spanish government, was set up not only to Christianize the Native Americans, but also to train them to become successful tradespeople in the new Spanish society. Originally, the mission served as a–

SUZE: Eighteenth century? (Leans forward) _Eighteenth century?_

MOM: Now Suze, we've discussed this. I told you there's a year's waiting list at Robert Louis Stevenson, and you told me you didn't want to go to an all-girl's school, so Sacred Heart is out, and Andy's heard some awful stories about drug abuse and gang violence in the public schools around here–

SUZE: Eighteenth century? That's like _three hundred years old!_

ANDY: I don't get it. What's so bad about the eighteenth century?

MOM: Suze has never been wild about old buildings.

ANDY: Oh. Then I guess she's not going to like the house.

SUZE: (grips the back of the headrest tightly) Why? Why am I not going to like the house?

(The car pulls into the driveway of an old, Victorian-style house constructed entirely of wood)

SUZE: Oh God.

(Everyone gets out of the car, carrying Suze's bags)

ANDY: You know, this house had quite a reputation in the day. It was built in 1849 as a boardinghouse, and a large amount of fights over cards and women took place right in the front parlor. I even framed a bullet hole in the hallway instead of filling it in. It's quite interesting, you know.

SUZE: (shudders) I'll bet.


	2. Scene 2: I talk to the dead

Scene Two: "I speak to the dead."

(Suze speaks in a voice over)

_By now I'm pretty sure you're all wondering why I'm so weird. Maybe I should explain why I hate old houses. Maybe I should explain everything. _

_The story of why I hate old houses is also the story of why all the kids at my old school thought I was nuts. It's the story of why my mom brought me to about thirty different counselors back in New York. It's the story of why I still see my dad sometimes, despite the fact that he died ten years ago. _

_It's also, coincidently, the story of why I've never been asked out by a boy. _

_Basically, in 12-Step lingo, it's like this: My name is Susannah Simon, I'm sixteen years old, and I talk to the dead._

_Or rather, they talk to me. It's not like I go around instigating conversations with them._

(Cut to a Suze as a young toddler, standing at the bottom of the stairs in her old apartment building, supporting herself by holding on to one of the stair rails. At the top of the stairs is the sad, grey ghost of a pretty young woman, looking down at Suze imploringly. Toddler Suze stares up at the ghost with wide, fascinated eyes, but the ghost sighs sadly.)

(Suze's mom walks over to young Suze)

YOUNG SUZE: Mommy, look! (Points to the top of the stairs where the grey ghost was) The grey girl! Can you see her, Mommy?

(Suze's mom looks up and sees nothing. The grey ghost sighs again and disappears)

YOUNG SUZE: There Mommy, she was there! I saw the little grey girl!

MOM (Smiling pleasantly): Uh huh. Listen Susie, what would you like for lunch today, grilled cheese or tuna fish?

(Cut to young Suze eating her grilled cheese sandwich)

(Present-day Suze, voice over)

_I realized then that the reason my mother had no idea what I was talking about was that she couldn't see them. At the time, I just figured it was yet another thing that separated adults and children. Children had to eat all their vegetables, adults did not. Children could ride the merry-go-round in the park, adults could not. Children could see the grey things. Adults could not. _

_And even though I was only a kid, I still realized that the little grey thing at the top of the stairs was not something to be discussed. Not with anybody. Not ever. _

(Cut to Suze, a little older, sitting on a fire escape alone in her apartment. In the background we can hear people saying things like, "I'm sorry for your loss" in comforting tones)

_I was never able to understand what ghosts wanted, at least, not until my dad died. They were just there. They tried to talk to me, I didn't know what they wanted, and after awhile, they'd just go away._

_People kept assuring me, after my dad died, that he was never coming back. Of course, I didn't believe them. Not coming back? Were they nuts? I mean, sure, I knew he was dead. But he was definitely coming back. _

(Suze's dad appears, a little more grey and a little more see-through, on the fire escape. Suze grins and hugs him, and they start talking)

_My dad tried to explain it all to me. He did a pretty good job, too. It's like this: I'm basically the contact person for dead spirits who can't ascend to a higher plane because they have unfinished business. In plain English: ghosts who leave things untidy come to me. And if I can, I have to clean up the mess._

_Needless to say, this interferes with my ability to live the life of a normal teenager. And prevents boys from asking me out because, well...people don't think too highly of girls who go around talking to what appears to be walls and other inanimate objects._

(Cut back to the present day, with Suze looking around the enormous old house in awe, but in apprehension too)

MOM: Do you want to see your new room, Susie?

SUZE: Uh, yeah, sure.

(They go up the stairs to Suze's bedroom, painted a pleasant pink, with a large canopy bed and silver and white furniture and a dressing table. A large bay window faces the sea, and in the window seat, sits a ghost–a young man in old fashioned clothing. Suze sees him and her eyes widen, she glares straight at him. At first he doesn't realize she's looking at him; he turns his head and stares behind him to see if she's speaking to someone else. Then he stares back at her in shock.)

SUZE (whispering to the ghost) Who the hell are you?

MOM: Did you say something Susie?

SUZE (hurriedly): Um, no. This is really great, Mom, everything's really great. Thanks so much.

MOM: Well, I'm glad you like it. I was sort of worried. I mean, I know how you get about, well, old places.

SUZE (trying to steer her mom towards the door) Really Mom, it's great, I love it.

MOM: Are you sure, Susie? Because I know it's a big change, asking you to leave Grandma and Gina back in New York and all. I know things haven't been easy since Daddy died.

SUZE (hugs her mom): Don't worry Mom, I know I'm gonna be really happy here. Now, uh, do you think you should go and help Andy make dinner?

MOM: Oh, yes. You're right. Are you sure you don't need any help unpacking?

SUZE: Yeah Mom, I'm sure. So, uh, you go and help Andy, and I'll be down in just a minute.

(Her mom leaves, and immediately after she closes the door Suze turns to the ghost, who is still staring at her wide-eyed)

GHOST: I don't understand...I don't...how can you see me? After all these years, no one has ever–

SUZE: Yeah, looks as if it's been awhile. How long has it been since you've croaked, anyway? What, a hundred and fifty years?

GHOST: What is...croaked?

SUZE: You know. Kicked the bucket. Checked out. Bit the dust.

(The ghost looks completely lost)

SUZE (sighs): Died.

GHOST: Oh, yes...died.

SUZE: Yeah, that. So what's your glitch?

GHOST: Glitch?

SUZE: Yes, glitch. Problem. Why are you here?

(The ghost looks blank again)

SUZE: Let me elaborate. Why haven't you gone to the other side?

GHOST: I don't know what you're talking about.

SUZE: Whaddya mean, you don't know what I'm talking about? You're _dead_. You don't belong here. You're supposed to be off doing whatever it is people do when they die. Rejoicing in heaven, or burning in hell, or being reincarnated, or ascending another plane of consciousness, or whatever. You're not supposed to be just...well, _hanging around_.

(The ghost changes position so that he's leaning an elbow on one leg. He looks thoughtful)

GHOST: Well, what if I happen to _like_ hanging around?

SUZE: Look. You can do all the hanging around you want, amigo. Slack away. I don't really care.

GHOST: Jesse.

SUZE (turning around and starting to unpack) What?

GHOST: You called me amigo. I just thought you might like to know I have a name. It's Jesse.

SUZE: Well, fine then, Jesse it is. You can't stay here, Jesse.

JESSE (smiling): And you?

SUZE: And me what?

JESSE: What is your name?

SUZE (glaring at him): Look. Just tell me what you want, and get out. It's really hot and I want to change clothes. I don't have time for–

JESSE: That woman, your mother. She called you Susie. Short for Susan?

SUZE: Susannah. As in, "Don't Cry For Me."

JESSE (smiles again): I know the song.

SUZE: Yeah, it was probably in the Top 40 when you were born, huh?

JESSE: So this is your room now, is it Susannah?

SUZE: Yeah, this is my room now. So you're gonna have to clear out.

JESSE: _I'm _going to have to clear out? This has been my home for a century and a half. Why do _I _have to leave it?

SUZE: Because this is _my_ room, and I'm not going to share it with the ghost of some dead cowboy.

(Jesse slams his foot down on the floor and stands up facing Suze angrily)

JESSE: I am _not_ a cowboy.

(As he speaks, the mirror hanging over Suze's dresser starts to shake)

SUZE: Whoa. Down, boy.

JESSE (waving a finger in Suze's face): My family worked like slaves to make something of themselves in this country, but never, ever as a _vanquero–_

SUZE:(angrily grabs Jesse's finger and pulls him forward by it) Stop with the mirror already. And quit wagging your finger in my face. Do that again, and I'll break it.

(Suze lets go of Jesse's finger. Jesse goes pale and incredulously stares at his finger that Suze just touched: the first person who's touched him in 150 years)

JESSE: ...Who are you? What kind of...girl are you?

SUZE: I'll tell you what kind of girl I'm not. I'm _not _the kind of girl who wants to share her room with the member of the opposite sex, even a dead one. Understand me? So either you move out on your own or I force you out. But either way, Jesse, when I get back I want you out.

(Suze storms out of the room and slams the door behind her)

(Jesse raises his eyebrows in an amused sort of way. He sits back down on the window seat and smiles, stares out at the sea, softly singing, "_Oh Susannah, now don't you cry for me, 'cause I come from Alabama with this banjo on my knee_...")


	3. Scene 3: Interesting mediation technique

Scene 3: "Interesting mediation techniques"

(Suze is sitting in the administrative office of her new school with her mom, staring up at a giant crucifix hanging behind the secretary's desk, slightly horrified. A boy (ADAM) sitting across from her on a couch notices what she's looking at) 

ADAM: He's supposed to weep tears of blood of any girl ever graduates from here a virgin.

(Suze lets out a little snort of laughter)

SECRETARY (sighs): Oh, Adam.

ADAM (exagerrated serious voice): It's true. It happened just last year. My sister. (Stage whisper) She's adopted.

(Suze laughs again. A second later a priest comes in through the side doors)

PRIEST: Mrs. Ackerman, what a pleasure to see you again. And this must be Susannah Simon. Come in, won't you? (Turns to Adam) Oh no, Mr. McTavish. Not on the first day of a brand-new semester.

ADAM: What can I say, Father Dom? The broad hates me.

FATHER DOMINIC: Kindly do not refer to Sister Ernestine as a broad, Mr. McTavish. I will see to you in a moment, after I've spoken to these ladies.

ADAM: No problem, padre. (Grins at Suze)

(Suze, her mom, and Father Dominic go inside his office. Cut to Father Dominic just finishing his speech on the school and school rules)

FATHER DOMINIC: Well, I think that about covers of all of it. Do either of you have any questions? No? Fine then. (Stands up) I'll say goodbye to you, Mrs. Ackerman, and walk Susannah to her first class. Susannah?

(Father Dom walks Suze across the courtyard and the school buildings, adobe structures connected by breezeways, the statue of Junipero Serra with an assembly of Native American women kneeling at his feet, and finally to the lockers.)

FATHER DOMINIC: Here we are. Yours is...hmm, let me think. Oh yes, 273.

(Suze trails down the row of lockers. 268, 269, 270, 271, 272...)

(When she reaches locker 273, Suze stops. There's a ghost standing right in front of the locker, a pretty teenage girl with long blonde hair and wearing a very nasty expression on her face (HEATHER))

HEATHER: What are _you_ looking at? (Looks over Suze's shoulder and speaks to Father Dom, standing behind Suze) _This_ is who they let in to take my place? I am _so _sure.

(Suze turns around and gaps at Father Dominic. He looks down at Suze curiously)

FATHER DOMINIC: Ah. I thought so.

(Suze looks from Father Dom, to Heather, then back to Father Dom.)

SUZE: You can _see_ her?

FATHER DOMINIC (nods): Yes. I suspected when I first heard your mother speak about you–and your..._problems_ at your old school–that you might be one of us, Susannah. But I couldn't be sure, of course, so I didn't say anything. Although the name Simon, I'm sure you're aware, is from the Hebrew word meaning "intent listener", which, as a fellow mediator, you of course would be–

SUZE: So _that's _why there aren't any Indian spirits around here! _You _took care of them. Jesus, I was wondering what happened to them all. I expected to find hundreds–

FATHER DOMINIC: Well, there weren't hundreds, exactly, but when I first arrived there were quite a few. But it was nothing, really. I was only doing my duty, after all, making use of the heavenly gift I received from God.

SUZE: Oh. Is _that_ who's responsible for it?

FATHER DOMINIC: But of course ours is a gift from God. Where else do you think it could come from?

SUZE: I dunno. I've always kind of wanted to have a word with the guy in charge, you know? Because, given a choice, I'd much rather have not been blessed with this paticular gift.

FATHER DOMINIC: But why ever not, Susannah?

SUZE: All it does is get me into trouble. Do you have any idea how many hours I've spent in psychiatrists' offices? My mom's convinced I'm a complete schizo.

HEATHER (sarcastically): Excuse me for interrupting. But would you mind telling me what's going on around here? Who is this bitch?

SUZE: Hey, this guy's a priest, you know.

HEATHER: Uh, no duh he's a priest. He's only been trying to get rid of me all week.

(Suze looks at Father Dom. He looks sheepish.)

FATHER DOMINIC: Well, you see, Heather's being a bit obstinate–

HEATHER: If you think that I'm just going to stand back and let you assign my locker to this bitch–

SUZE: Call me a bitch one more time, missy, and I'll make sure you spend the rest of eternity inside this locker of yours.

HEATHER: Biiiiiitch.

(Suze punches Heather in the face hard, sending Heather flying into a row of lockers and leaving quite a large dent in Suze's. Heather crashes to the floor, and with a whimper, gets up and runs down the corridor)

SUZE: Hm. Chicken. (Lightly blows on her knuckles) So, what were you saying, Father?

FATHER DOMINIC (sarcastically): Interesting mediation techniques they're teaching out east these days.

SUZE: Hey. Nobody calls me names and gets away with it, and I don't care how tortured she was in her past life.

FATHER DOMINIC: I think there are some things we need to discuss, you and I.

(Suddenly the door to the right of Suze and Father Dom opens, and Mr. Walden, a large teacher, looks out into the breezeway, checking to see what made the loud noise)

MR. WALDEN: Everything all right, Dom?

FATHER DOMINIC: Yes, everything's fine. Just fine. And look what I've brought you. (Suze goes over and stands next to him) Your newest student, Susannah Simon. Susannah, this is your home room teacher, Mr. Walden.

MR. WALDEN: Nice to have you with us, Miss Simon. Thanks, Dom, for bringing her over.

FATHER DOMINIC: Not a problem. We were just having a bit of a problem with her locker. You probably heard it, sorry to disturb you. We'll have the custodian look into it. Susannah, I expect you back at my office at, um, three, to fill out the rest of those forms.

SUZE (smiling innocently): Oh, no can do, Father. My ride leaves at three.

FATHER DOMINIC: Then I'll send you a pass. Expect one around two.

SUZE (waggling her fingers goodbye): Okay then. Buh-bye.

(Turns around to face her new classmates, who are all staring at her)

MR. WALDEN: Class, this is Susannah Simon, our newest edition to the class. She's transferred here from New York City.

(Pause. Everyone stares at Suze)

MR. WALDEN: Er, Susannah, you can take a seat now.

(Suze looks around, considering seating options. One empty seat is next to a pretty girl with curly blonde hair. The other empty seat is next to an albino girl (CEECEE). Suze takes the seat next to the albino)

(A girl (DEBBIE) a few seats away snickers)

DEBBIE: God, seat by the freak, why don't you.

SUZE (turning in her chair to face her): Excuse me, do you have Tourette's?

DEBBIE: What?

SUZE: Tourette's Syndrome. It's a neurological disorder that causes people to say things they don't really mean. Do you have it?

DEBBIE (starting to turn red): Um...no.

SUZE: Oh. So then you were purposely being rude.

DEBBIE: I wasn't calling _you_ a freak.

SUZE: I'm aware of that. That's why I'm only going to break one of your fingers after school, instead of all of them.

(Debbie blushes very furiously and turned around in her seat. Raising her eyebrows, Suze does the same. The class starts buzzing, and then the bell rings, and the students pick up their bags)


End file.
